Page 87 of To Hell With It

Try and remember the good things.

Like what?

He had a turbo penis.

It was too big.

No penis can be too big.

That’s gross, and yes, they definitely can.

I wish you’d told her.

She was really nice.

She needs to know the truth.

Does she though?

You’d want to know, wouldn’t you?

Yes.

Well then. Jesus, what a sleazebag.

I knew that Una was right, that Jack was a sleazebag. That I was better off without him, that I had had a lucky escape, that it was Emily I should feel sorry for, not me, who knew the truth. I had escaped a life of lies, a life that was actually never going to be mine at all. The vision of them eating olives and prawns (I hate prawns) on the beach watching the sun go down together made my head hurt.

I stared across the road at the faceless mannequin that somehow looked like it was staring straight back at me.

Hello?

Una prompted.

That’s it!

What is?

I have to go. I’ll text you later.

* * *

It wasn’t expensive – ten dollars – because of course it wasn’t real. But when I came out of the charity shop moments later, I marched back to Jack’s house on nothing but adrenaline.

I had no idea if he was home, or if Emily could see me from her tinted windows, but I knew I had to do it quickly otherwise I might have talked myself out of it completely.

I bent down and pulled Eve’s stuffed cat out of my bag and then dug out the photograph of Jack kissing me that Una had taken in the Tally on quiz night.

I turned it around, took out my pen and started to write.

Thanks for the memories

This one’s for you

How’s your sister?

Liar, liar, pants on fire

Cheat

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